122 FOUR YEARS IN THE WHITE NORTH [Dec. 



Glacier. As I was going back on foot to help Ah-we- 

 ung-o-na, who had pluckily driven her husband's dogs 

 all the way from Etah, I jumped hastily to one side 

 upon rounding a sharp turn, face to face with what 

 resembled a huge bear. A laugh and a few Eskimo 

 words identified the strange beast as Tung-we on all- 

 fours. At Etah he had suffered a painful accident 

 by stepping upon a long nail, forcing it so deep into his 

 heel as to incapacitate him for some weeks, and thus 

 compelling his wife to handle the team. 



The lights of Kah-na were a cheerful sight. Coming 

 out of the darkness and the cold of the trail, the little 

 squares of light behind which we knew were food, 

 warmth, and good cheer were blessed again and again. 

 The village was crowded. Every bed was more than 

 filled. Tanquary and I declined all proffered hospital- 

 ity and slept on the ice with our backs against our 

 sledges, sacrificing a bit of comfort for the sake of 

 freedom from lice, the prevailing scourge of an Eskimo 

 home. 



A short run on the 27th brought us to the village of 

 Ittibloo. The roar of wind on the glacier precluded all 

 thoughts of an attempt to cross the land into Gran- 

 ville Bay. Two snow houses were quickly constructed 

 for the accommodation of our party, and we were ready 

 for the trail when the weather would permit. The 

 Eskimos at Kah-na had informed us that rounding Cape 

 Parry was impossible. 



We awoke to a clear starlit sky and an almost weird 

 stillness, which indicated a total subsidence of all wind. 

 The soft footing on the upward slope was a bit tiring 

 to men and dogs, but the dash down from the summit 

 would have been exciting and enjoyable had it not been 



